


White Pawn's Gambit

by Moontyger



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-29
Updated: 2014-03-29
Packaged: 2018-01-17 12:09:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1387114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moontyger/pseuds/Moontyger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spending time away from his guards was harder than ever, but Anduin thinks he's found a way.  He issues an invitation and Wrathion, of course, accepts.</p><p>Sequel to "Your Move", but it's not really that necessary to have read it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Pawn's Gambit

In whelp form, Wrathion was small – small enough that he was able to fly through Anduin's open window and land on his bed without waking him. It was only when he changed forms that Anduin felt the presence next to him; the sudden increase in weight caused the mattress to dip just enough to catch his attention. He had a Smite ready to cast before his eyes were even fully open, but he let it dissolve harmlessly when his eyes met Wrathion's.

The Black Prince's hair was tousled and his red eyes glinted with amusement. For a moment, Anduin felt absurdly like they were brothers, plotting some late-night mischief that was bound to get them in trouble. The darkened room and the need to whisper only increased the impression, though he knew even as he felt it that it wouldn't last. Wrathion was many things, but brotherly wasn't one of them.

“You made it,” he said, not quite whispering but still keeping his voice down.

“You invited me,” Wrathion pointed out. 

Anduin didn't counter with the fact that that had been days ago; that made him look entirely too eager. He felt rather silly about the whole thing to begin with. Wrathion had said it was his move, but he'd let weeks go by without doing a thing. Well, maybe not quite nothing: there had been the occasional lingering look and some accidental touches that weren't quite so accidental, but nothing more. More than once, he'd considered doing nothing at all. They had a mutually beneficial friendship, one that he enjoyed. Why take chances?

In the end, however, while Velen might be his mentor, Anduin was still Varian's son. It might have been the wisest choice to do nothing, but the more time that passed, the more certain he became that he was no longer content with the status quo. Not when it had been made so clear that he could change it.

“I presume that you wanted to talk in private, away from your guards.”

“They do get in the way,” Anduin admitted. He'd had occasions to be glad of their presence, of course, but even the way he'd had to convey this invitation illustrated the point. Unable to come up with a clever way to phrase it such that Wrathion would be sure to understand and his guards would not, he'd been forced to stoop to something much more childish: a note passed stealthily under the table, as though they were students in a schoolroom instead of princes old enough to (sometimes, in Anduin's case, at least according to his father) act on their own.

“I'd have thought you'd be used to them by now.”

“When I first came to Pandaria, it was the first time I hadn't had guards. It was a little frightening, but it was also freeing.” Of course, the guards he'd had hadn't always been his own. Guards to keep him from escaping after he'd been kidnapped or guards to protect him from kidnapping, one or the other had always been there. There were differences; he wasn't so foolish as to claim there weren't, but both ultimately kept him a sort of prisoner, denied privacy and freedom of movement in the name of either safety or extortion.

Anduin wasn't such a child that he didn't understand the necessity. He hadn't failed to notice that Wrathion had guards of his own as well. But that short time on his own had felt so wonderful! For the first time, he'd felt like he could breathe, yet before it had happened, he hadn't even realized he was holding his breath. It had made him long for things he knew he shouldn't and take chances he might never have thought of even a short while ago.

“Freedom is rather intoxicating, is it not?” It might have sounded condescending, but Wrathion's expression made Anduin certain that this much, at least, he understood. “But what is it, I wonder, that you wished to say to me, away from prying eyes?” His tone was insinuating, suggesting he knew perfectly well. Even if he did, however, Anduin was certain he'd never say – not when he could make him say it.

But instead of answering, Anduin's eyes slid involuntarily toward his bedroom door. He was all too aware of how easily they could be caught and, if they were, what the consequences could be. Were his father to find a black dragon here in the keep, even though Lion's Landing was still far from Stormwind – well, “angry” didn't quite cover it.

When he looked back at Wrathion, the Black Prince's expression had grown more serious, though some amusement remained in the look in his eyes. He nodded at Anduin, as if to say he understood this unspoken message as well.

All this understanding should have made it easier. He wasn't telling Wrathion anything he didn't already know; he was merely taking him up on his implied offer. Yet despite all his diplomatic training, all the ways he had learned to phrase things delicately (even threats or outright declarations of war), the words wouldn't come. Finally, he gave up. Anduin took a deep breath and closed his eyes, centering himself and seeking the inner peace of the Light as he'd been taught. Then he opened his eyes, exhaled, and closed the small distance between them. He might not be able to say it, but a kiss should make his intentions quite clear.

He hadn't expected Wrathion to push him away, not really, but he was still relieved when it didn't happen. It was, however, quickly apparent that neither of them had much experience with this sort of thing, but what they lacked in technique they did their best to make up for in enthusiasm.

When he finally pulled away, Anduin was flushed and panting. Wrathion tasted of spice and ashes and now he did, too. Maybe that was simply the taste of dragon instead of something unique to Wrathion, but it was unusual enough that he doubted he'd ever forget it, even if this never happened between them again. He could feel that he was smiling – they both were, though Wrathion's expression was perhaps a bit closer to a smirk. He looked, in fact, entirely pleased with himself, enough so that Anduin felt a small shiver of worry. Had he made a mistake?

But training and any questions of grand destinies aside, Anduin was still only human and such doubts couldn't overcome his own sense of triumph that he'd accomplished what he'd set out to do. The heady sense of victory, if only over himself or perhaps his guards, mingled with the hot thread of arousal and it was enough to make him wonder if perhaps he was looking equally smug.

They traded glances, conspirators once more, and at last he found his voice. “And now, I believe it's your turn.”

Wrathion raised an eyebrow at that. “Is that your way of telling me I've worn out my welcome?”

Anduin's gaze slid toward the door again and Wrathion laughed. “We _are_ taking chances tonight,” he agreed, acknowledging the unspoken danger. But he didn't change forms or get up to leave and he never stopped smirking. He leaned closer, close enough that Anduin could feel the heat of his breath, and almost whispered, “But I think you like taking chances.”

It was a surprisingly direct thing to say, at least for Wrathion, and also a statement that didn't fit with Anduin's image of himself at all. He took risks, yes, but not unnecessary ones. Even the mistake he had made with Garrosh hadn't been due to some desire for thrillseeking.

But before he could say any of that or even decide how to phrase it such that Wrathion wouldn't immediately tear it to pieces, Wrathion kissed him again. It wasn't much more skillful than the first time, but it was different from the start – this time, Wrathion was doing the kissing, and he was much more aggressive about it. He didn't limit himself to just kissing either; he let his hands wander, pushing up Anduin's nightshirt and stroking the bare skin beneath.

 _I should stop him,_ was Anduin's immediate thought, a thought he didn't even try to act upon. It was true: he _should_ stop him; he hadn't planned for them to do anything more than kiss, if that much, but the truth was that he didn't want him to stop. All the reasons why he should end this now – before they were caught, before they crossed some line he couldn't even define – were dissolving, disappearing like the sugar Tong added to their tea at the Tavern in the Mists. 

Even when Wrathion began to use his mouth as well as his hands: nipping at Anduin's earlobe, biting gently and sucking at his nipples, the only protest he made was when he bit a little too hard with teeth that were just enough sharper and more pointed than a human's to feel the difference.

When he tried to return the favor, however, Wrathion paused. He propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at Anduin lying flat on the bed, and he wasn't smirking anymore. He looked almost serious for once, though his tone was as light as ever as he shook his head. “My turn, remember?”

He could have argued, of course, perhaps pointed out that this was far more than either of them had done previously in this game or whatever it was they were doing. Or he could have asked Wrathion just how far he intended to take this. But by then Anduin had been teased enough that he didn't want to take the time. If this was how Wrathion wished to play it, so be it.

He couldn't quite stifle his gasp when Wrathion finally shoved his underwear down and wrapped a hand around his cock, however, nor refrain from a panicked glance at the door. For a moment, he had a clear image of what the guards would see if they opened it: their prince, mostly nude, love-bites scattered across his throat and shoulders, and Wrathion all-too-obviously the cause. His panic at their compromising position overrode his desire to keep going and he started to sit up, but Wrathion shoved him back down.

“I'll hear it if anyone's coming this way,” he whispered, mouth nearly pressed to Anduin's ear, and Anduin relaxed. Under other circumstances, it wouldn't have been much comfort; Wrathion liked to play games too much to be truly trustworthy. He would probably even enjoy Anduin's embarrassment if they were caught. But in this, he had just as much to lose, maybe more. And as Anduin had had plenty of opportunity to discover in their time together, Wrathion hated to lose. 

So he lay back and let Wrathion stroke him back to full hardness, biting his lip when he found it hard to remain silent.

He should have been prepared for the rest of it. He'd just been thinking that Wrathion liked to play games, after all. Given that, it was hardly surprising that he stroked Anduin to the edge of orgasm, reduced him to a squirming, desperate state of pure need, and then... he just stopped. 

Wrathion sat up and straightened his clothes, while Anduin bit his lip once again. He _would not_ beg; it would avail him nothing and give Wrathion too much satisfaction. But he hardly needed to; Wrathion had that smug smirk on his face again. He practically radiated self-satisfaction as he looked at what he'd wrought, though Anduin noted he wasn't as unaffected as he pretended – he couldn't entirely even out his breathing, nor were his pants quite loose enough to hide that he had an erection of his own.

Anduin curled his hands into fists to keep from either touching himself or reaching for Wrathion to drag him back down onto the bed. At the moment, he wasn't quite sure which he'd go for first, but the part of him that still retained some self-control knew they were both bad ideas.

“I look forward to your next move in this game of ours.” With that parting shot, Wrathion stepped to the window, changed forms, and flew out into the night, leaving Anduin to finish himself off, clean up, and then decide on an appropriate response. Somehow, he didn't expect he'd be getting much sleep.


End file.
